


To Build a Home

by cauterizeandbruise



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, the gays are alright, they're having babies instead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cauterizeandbruise/pseuds/cauterizeandbruise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place six years after The Oak Room reunion, Carol and Therese embark upon the next chapter of their lives together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a particularly busy period at the furniture store. Imported European products are all the rage at the moment, and Carol’s clients have been on her back all month about whalebone dressers and teak wardrobes with inlaid mother of pearl. And not just from the British Isles; they wanted something more exotic, something from as far North as Scandinavia. As a child, Carol’s mother had insisted on a Norwegian governess in an attempt to make sure Carol knew where she came from. Carol had complained loudly as she was put through the rigour of learning Norwegian, and it has since regressed to schoolgirl standard from lack of use, but Carol has never been more grateful to her mother now as she negotiated with Nordic furniture makers to secure those elusive pieces. It’s definitely earned her glowing compliments from her clients, and a handsome commission.

 

Carol comes blowing through the door of the Madison Avenue apartment, removing her pumps while calling out her apologies for being late. When she gets no answer, she pads down the corridor in stockinged feet, and sees Therese at their dining table poring over a set model, cardboard clippings and wood shavings spilling from table to floor. “Hello, darling.” Carol stands behind Therese’s chair, kissing the top of her head, and in response, Therese reaches up and pulls Carol’s face closer to hers so their lips meet. Carol is reminded how, despite her annoyance at her busy schedule taking time away from her and Therese, it doesn’t take her long to feel human again, not when Therese’s hands are caressing her face and tangling into her hair. Carol is reminded of what she has, here with Therese, in this apartment they can call their own. And it’s far beyond what she dared to dream for herself, six years ago, as she lay in her bed in despair, in that cavernous Ridgewood house after yet another conciliatory dinner at Harges’ parents’.

 

It is almost as if Therese senses Carol’s lost in her thoughts, pulling her swiftly back to the here, the now by biting Carol’s lip lightly. Carol moans softly into Therese’s mouth, her hands moving down the side of Therese's ribs, her thumbs stroking lightly under what she can feel is the underwire of her brassiere. But this moment is broken when Therese suddenly gasps about dinner in the oven. Carol watches, amused as Therese and flies from her seat in a panic. Nothing’s ruined, thankfully, and Carol cleans up while Therese fixes dinner. “So, we’ve got the wardrobe, thank heavens. Even Janice is losing patience with her and she’s a sweet girl. Mrs Lacey is happy to have her wardrobe, and I’m happy to get her off our backs.” “That’s wonderful, Carol.”

 

As they sat down to dinner, Carol chatted on about work before remembering, “Oh, Abby wanted me to tell you, she met a Bert Currah at a social last night. He’s from money– then again, that’s every person that Abby meets– and he’s looking for an assistant designer on a new Pinter play. It's been getting around a lot, apparently. Abby’s given him our number, he said he'd call tomorrow... Therese? You’re miles away tonight, darling. Is something the matter?” Carol studies Therese carefully; there’s a look in her eyes that Carol can’t quite place. It’s not completely foreign, but there’s a certain shine she’s never seen before. Even after sharing their lives for such a long time, Carol still felt she didn’t know all of Therese. And she like that: waking up to a person who was slightly different than the day before. Therese was growing even more into herself, and Carol was discovering Therese just as Therese was discovering herself. And tonight, it was like Therese had a light in her gaze, a light that seemed as if someone had lit a fire in her and she was glowing. “She’s clearly got some news”, Carol mused. But pushing Therese wasn’t going to get it out of her. It pleased Carol though, and this… _something_ that had her in its spell could wait after dinner. After she had Therese on the chaise with her feet on Carol’s lap, as was their regular routine, and after she’s plied Therese with a couple of drinks–

 

Therese hasn’t had a drink all evening.

 

That was– milk. In a glass on the kitchen island when Carol had come home. Her glass now… It’s filled with a clear liquid. It's most certainly not vodka, Carol had seen her fill the glass from the tap, but she’d been going on about the clients she just didn’t think.

 

“Sweetness, are you–“ Carol chokes on the words, and _come now, Carol, of all the times you pick to be ineloquent, what’s the matter with you?_ “Am I what?” And yet. Carol cannot bring herself to utter those words, to break what she suddenly realized was a quiet magic that had perfumed the air. “Are you– You haven’t had a drink all evening. Are you…?” Carol trails off in a whisper, her heart seemed to have leaped into her throat. “I am.” Therese looks at Carol and the smile she’s kept in all night leaps onto her face majestically, beatifically, leaving dimples in its wake. Carol’s heart feels like it might burst, and even as Therese’s smile grows, her eyes fill with tears, and so do Carol’s and neither of them know how but Therese ends up in Carol’s lap and they are sobbing–  _Oh what fools we are to be crying at such glorious news–_ and they’re laughing, wiping away each other’s tears and Carol kisses Therese’s face, her eyelids– still damp– her nose, the apples of her cheeks, those dimples and catches her upper lip. And everything makes sense now, Carol doesn’t remember ever being this happy, no, not even when she found out she was going to have Rindy. Of course, she had been joyous, and she kept it to herself for days, relishing the clandestine secrecy of having such precious information only for herself. But _this_. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Therese.” “You’ll have to teach me.” “Of course, my angel, and you’re going to have a beautiful baby.” “No, _we_.” Carol feels the familiar surge of love wash over her, except now it feels like a torrent, a tidal wave of emotion and again she’s unable to speak so all she can do is kiss Therese again, until they’re both breathless with more love than their hearts have space for, and brush her fingers lightly against Therese’s abdomen.

 

Carol tells Therese all the time, in the afterglow of their lovemaking as they lie tangled up in bedcovers and arms and legs and thighs still firmly pressed _there_. Therese usually laughs, squeezes her hand and tells her it’s the sex that makes her talk like this. But Carol knows, with every fibre of her being, ever since she saw a petite brunette wearing a godawful Santa hat standing apprehensively behind a glass counter filled with dolls in a department store. Carol has always known, but as she looks into Therese’s eyes, and recognizes now the luminescence she’d seen earlier, she’s never been more sure of it. She’s found her home.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“What time did you say?” “After 5. His train only gets in at quarter to 4 and he’ll need time to…” There’s a nervous giggle. “Does he still live on Morton?” “Yes, I’ve told him to expect you instead; I really can’t get away at the moment.” “Alright, my darling. I’ll be over there quarter past 5, and I’ll come straight home.”

* * *

Carol stands on the steps of 119 Morton Street; she’s been to this apartment a number of times, but it’s different today; she’s nervous, not just because of what will follow tonight but to have to let someone else into their lives in this manner– to share in what is traditionally a private affair. She’s never hidden what she has with Therese, but her experience with that psychotherapist– memories she tries her best to lock away– taught her how much the world isn’t ready to accept her love for Therese. She’s shouldered more than her fair share of suspicious and shrewd glares from strangers. It doesn’t bother her, she thinks of Therese; brave, sweet Therese and how much braver she is to want this for them.

Dannie opens the door almost immediately after Carol rings the doorbell. They appraise each other; Dannie is stiff and Carol has her guard up – a formidable defence developed from spending years hosting dinner parties, always in deference to Harge – and neither know why they are doing this. They are friends, after all, and they’ve certainly never stood on ceremony before. Dannie shuffles uncomfortably, inviting Carol in, and they make agonizing small talk until Dannie cuts in, “Well, you’d best take it and get home. It’s not going to… keep very long.” Carol curses at herself inwardly, _the only reason this remains painful is because you make it so!_ Carol drops the mask she’s been clinging to since Dannie opened the door and smiles warmly at him. “Of course. Therese is expecting me.” Dannie picks up the paper bag they have both been supremely aware of and hands it to Carol. It is barely weighted, yet she almost staggers under the magnitude of its significance. “Thank you for doing this. For Therese. It means so much to her.” “You make her happy. Why wouldn’t I?” Dannie shrugs, touches the back of his neck hesitantly, “If it doesn’t work this time, I told Therese– I’m willing to…” He trails off, floundering for words, and Carol gently touches him on the arm, thanks him again and takes her leave. 

* * *

Therese has smoothed out the bedcovers, folded and refolded the laundry more times than she can remember. She was secretly glad Harkevy had wanted to see the builder contracts today; she did not think she had it in her to have gone to see Dannie, and judging from Carol accepting the responsibility so readily and unquestioningly, she was sure Carol had known it too. Carol knew her better than anyone, loved her like none had before. Some mornings, in the soft light of dawn, Therese would find herself waking sleepily to the warmth of Carol slumbering next to her and watch as twilight shadows gave way to an amber opalescence pouring across the planes of Carol’s face and pale hair fanned out against the pillow, transforming it into a golden crown. Therese would never tire of looking at Carol– of the eyelashes that dusted her cheeks, those cheekbones that could have belonged on a Hellenic marble sculpture, and the lips that comprised fullness and softness and tenderness. This sunrise study would equally terrify Therese. To love someone the way Therese loved Carol was to confront the possibility of losing her, and Therese couldn’t fathom what it would be to experience again the emptiness consequential of separation multiplied tenfold. What they were about to do was both affirmation and hubris. 

 

Therese hears the click of the front door lock and rises distractedly from the chaise. She’d been too distracted to think about dinner, purchasing an assortment of cheeses and a loaf of sourdough before realizing it wasn’t particularly appropriate. She hoped Carol wouldn’t be hungry; she couldn’t think about eating at the moment, not with the knot in the pit of her stomach. Carol sets her purse as well as a brown paper bag on the table, greeting Therese with a kiss and enveloping her in her arms. Therese buries her face into Carol’s neck, breathing in her perfume and feeling less restless at once. “Is that it?” Comes a muffled voice, and Carol presses another kiss against Therese’s cheek in response.

 

Therese is in bed as Carol removes the clear container from the paper bag and carefully un-screws the lid, drawing the contents out with a syringe. Carol moves to their bed, and Therese fidgets, trying to get comfortable. The air is boiling with apprehension, and both Therese and Carol look at each nervously. “I’ve never done this before.” “I hope not”, replies Therese, and Carol laughs softly, breaking the tension. “Well my darling, the only way I know this is going to work is if you relax. Should I put on the phonograph or–” “Make love to me.” Carol doesn’t quite know where this would go, especially while time isn’t on their side, but she never needs to be asked twice, so she places the syringe down gingerly on the nightstand and Therese pulls Carol towards her, their lips colliding hungrily.

 

Clothes are shed, and Carol’s hands roam the terrains of Therese’s body, cupping her breasts before reaching to pinch her nipple. Therese mewls, and it sends a current coursing through Carol, whose lips now traverse to brush every inch of Therese’s skin. Therese’s hands wander down the gentle curve of Carol’s abdomen, gripping and stroking in equal measure. It takes all her focus to grip Therese’s hand, “No. This is about you. I want to love you.” Therese wants to protest, but Carol silences her with her lips and by the manner in which Therese’s lips yield, Carol knows it’s time. Kissing her way down Therese’s body, she stops at her hip, sucking and licking that spot she knows will give her the response she wants. Therese moans and Carol takes the opportunity to press Therese’s thighs apart, moaning inwardly as she takes in the sight of Therese’s fullness and wetness. She will always love this view; of Therese panting and biting her lip to keep from screaming, of her back arching and hips lifting as she craves for Carol’s touch. “You’re beautiful.” Carol whispers, before the scent of Therese’s arousal sends her mind into overdrive and she presses her tongue to Therese. She tastes of desire and pleasure and comfort and heaven all at once, and Carol drinks this elixir of memory and emotion, sucking and licking and stroking Therese. Carol’s tongue and fingers take her to a mighty crescendo, and she climaxes, crying out Carol’s name, pushing Carol close to the edge as well. Therese’s hands, which have all this time been tangled in Carol’s hair, now pull Carol up to her. The intensity of sensation, so familiar yet unlike all the other times, overcomes Therese and she sobs into Carol’s mouth, tasting a cocktail of Carol and herself. Carol hugs Therese to her tightly, so tight she imagines their skin fusing, losing all sense of where one body ends and the next begins. “Now, Carol.” She pushes herself off Therese, fumbles for the syringe on the nightstand and once again slides south to rest in between her thighs. The syringe slides in easily and Therese whimpers, still sensitive. Carol shushes her gently and rubs slow, soothing circles with her thumb against the slope of Therese’s hip. Therese’s hand covers Carol’s and their eyes meet. “Carol, I love you.” Therese’s eyes fill with tears and Carol’s heart aches to see it, but she doesn’t move, she has to do this now. So she squeezes Therese’s hand, and with the other, pushes the plunger fully while she looks at Therese, never breaking their gaze. Their fate is sealed now. 

 

The syringe is extricated, and they lay pressed together, foreheads touching. Carol touches her lips to Therese’s sporadically, and they are lost in each other, and in the constellation of possibilities arising from what they’ve done. Carol murmurs her love in whispers and kisses, and Therese is silent but alert, soaking everything in, turning the idea of having a family with Carol over and over in her head. How much she wants this for them. Carol can only think of how it has been the big shifts that have catalysed a flourishing in Therese, how she loves Therese and will continue to love her; whether they have a child together has always been immaterial, Therese is already a mother to Rindy, in her eyes. They do not know how much time has passed, do not care to know–

 

Carol’s stomach rumbles. Neither react at first, but the rumbling is relentless, and Therese giggles, pulling her face back from Carol’s. “I’m starved.” “All I thought to buy was some bread and cheese. I’m afraid it’s hardly a satisfactory dinner.” “It’s just what I want.” So Therese slips out of bed, pulling on the bathrobe hanging on the door hook and Carol raises herself up on her elbows, watching as Therese moves in and out of her line of vision, the kitchen partially obscured by the dresser next to the doorframe. Then they eat the bread and cheese in bed, Carol with her glass of rye, discussing the events of their day. The conversation lulls Carol into a drowsiness, and just as she considers closing her eyes, she feels warm breath grazing her neck, and Therese whispers, “my turn." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hadn't been planning on writing a second chapter, but found that even I myself had lots of questions left unanswered after the first one so heck, I thought I'd go on... Thank you everyone who left kudos and comments (or who even skimmed through) on the last chapter, it's both awesome and terrifying that people are actually reading this. Another first as a writer for me here– I am no longer a smut virgin!!!– so once again, if you hated it, let me know; if you thought it worked, let me know! I'm always open to all criticism. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

“Jesus Christ, Therese”, Carol gasps, her head hitting the pillow heavily. She laughs, breathless, as Therese smiles deviously. “I don’t know what has gotten into you this weekend, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.” “Well, how could I help myself when you look like that?” Therese’s mouth is dangerously close to _that_ spot on Carol’s neck. After 6 years of being together Therese has learned everything she ever needed and wanted to know about pleasuring Carol. She knows, without a sliver of doubt, exactly where she should touch touch to trigger the reactions she desires. Carol, who navigates the world with such disarming indifference, melts in Therese’s hands, revealing the tender, gentle and impossibly kind interior. This Carol is reserved solely for Therese, is the only Carol Therese sees. Therese’s lips move up to Carol’s earlobe, her teeth grazing it so lightly, Carol trembles, aching for more. “Darling, I have worn nothing else but my robes, seeing as you’ve suddenly developed an insatiable need to…” Carol breaks mid-sentence, moaning as Therese suddenly maneuvers so Carol is on top, and grips her naked rear forcefully. “Need for what?” Carol gulps, unable to speak. Therese is hardly this assertive in the bedroom Carol often reminds her to verbalise these needs for it gives her pleasure to hear, and it lets her fulfill Therese. This is certainly surprising behavior, and it stokes the heat in Carol’s belly. “To be _fucked_.” Therese whimpers, pressing Carol even more tightly to her, though that would appear impossible given their current proximity. “Again”, Therese breathes and reaches down between their bodies to press her fingers, spreading Carol apart.

 

It’s been a while since she’s felt that delicious soreness between her thighs, a while since they’ve spent practically the whole of their weekend making love. After all, both Therese and Carol had been extremely busy with work lately. Therese was working concurrently on two shows, the first was an assignment she’d completed, but as the show was know moving from the Public to Broadway, she was needed to re-configure the set to fit the new theatre, and spent many days at the new venue The other was the Pinter project, which she had confidently secured, before realizing with great consternation that Harold was as hard to work with as word had it. And of course, right after Carol had bid Mrs Lacey farewell, in came Mrs Robinson, who was thrice as demanding as Mrs Lacey, and who wanted Oriental-style furniture. Carol had no expertise in the Orient, and she had tried to tell Mrs Robinson so, except she hadn’t wanted to hear it, insisting that Carol had come in highly recommended, and she wouldn’t hear of being passed on to another store. She’d also offered to raise Carol’s fee as an incentive, and well, with a baby on the way, who was Carol to reject the handsome proposal?

 

Nonetheless, affairs between Carol and Therese had slowed to a halt; if they were not too tired, then their times of the month clashed horrible, and Carol had wondered – And subsequently fretted with Abby – if Therese desired her less because she was… Older. It has been 6 years, and Carol’s body has changed more significantly than Therese’s. She had voiced these insecurities with Therese a number of times, only to be gently and lovingly assured otherwise. Well, if this weekend has been any indication, she’s definitely wrong about it, and she would tell Abby–

 

Abby. Abby was due to come over for dinner.

 

“Therese, what time is it? We’re expecting Abby–“

 

As if answering to her name, there’s a loud banging on the door.

 

“Open up, you nitwits! Don’t make me dig up the spare key!” Carol leapt out of bed, shouting, “coming”, as she slipped on the skirt and blouse hanging on the armchair while Therese wriggled into a dress.  They could hear Abby’s barely muffled grumbling, “I’ll bet you are, that’s why I’ve been spending the last 10 minutes standing out here while you do just that, com–” Carol wrenched the door open furiously. “The neighbours will hear!” “Yes, because they’re deaf to your wailing. Did you forget about me?” Abby breezes in calmly, a cigarette perched between her fingers, leaking smoke. “… Of course not…” “Carol didn’t mention you were coming over for dinner, I’m afraid we haven’t got anything prepared, let me just run out and–” “No matter, Therese, I assumed as much seeing as Carol here hasn’t called me all weekend.” She waves a few packages in their direction. “I got Matilda to make a casserole, all it needs is 10 minutes in the oven.” There is a glint in Abby’s eyes, and Carol mentally prepares herself for an acerbic comment. “Now, judging by the way Carol’s walking, you both have been having a good time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Therese is reminded freshly why Carol and Abby have been friends for such a long time. There is a lightheartedness in Abby, her blithe laugh, the way her eyes twinkle, that provide a foil to Carol; where Carol is prone to self-possession, Abby is carefree. They are good for each other, Therese muses. Besides, Abby adds colour to her life as well– Therese is very well aware of how much she’s learnt from Abby. Initial reservations and jealousy aside, they have grown very fond of each other, owing largely to a number of evenings voluntarily spent throwing back more than their fair share of drinks and sharing cigarettes in each other’s company when Carol had the occasional business trip to secure specific pieces of furniture in other states. Of course, Abby and Therese’s friendship was vastly different from the bond Abby and Carol shared, but Abby was nonetheless an indispensable part of Therese’s life, and Therese was grateful and better for it. 

 

“So. What is it you both have to tell me?” Abby asks conversationally, pouring herself another glass of scotch. “What makes you think we have anything to tell you?” Carol teases, sharing a conspiratorial look with Therese. “Carol, I know you think you hide it well, but you’ve been completely out of sorts this past month, so I know you have something– What is it? Are you both getting a cat, or a dog or–

 

“I’m going to have a baby.”

 

There is a stunned silence, and Carol studies Abby’s face. Abby’s schooled her expression into one of neutrality, but Carol is well-acquainted with Abby, enough that she sees her thinly-veiled displeasure. Abby has never been a master at schooling her expressions. At this moment, though, Carol wishes she did not know Abby as well as she did, for her reaction unsettles Carol. “We’d been discussing this for a while– And Dannie– Therese’s friend– We thought him the best; he knows the both of us, understands our… Relationship well. There was no involvement on his part, just… He provides us what we need, understands that this does not make him the child’s father. Then there’s the method we heard about, through someone Therese briefly met when she worked on _Marie Tudor_. The… “turkey baster method”, they called it.” Here Carol laughs breathlessly, she and Therese intently noting Abby’s countenance. “And we were very lucky, Therese took to it immediately. She found out we were expecting around a month ago… I didn’t tell you right away, because well, we all know what can happen when it’s early, we didn’t want to talk about it with anyone for fear of there being nothing to talk about.”

 

Abby puts out her cigarette, before smiling shakily, though she is fooling neither Carol nor Therese nor herself. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.” She touches the rim of her whisky glass thoughtfully, “I’m going to get a glass of water. No, Carol, you don’t have to get it for me.” She leaves the table, and Carol’s shoulders droop, as she meets Therese’s eyes. Therese reaches over, placing her hand over Carol’s. “I’ll go.”

 

Therese enters the kitchen to Abby leaning against the kitchen island, deep in thought. She too fills herself a glass of water and they stand there. Finally, Abby lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, before saying, “Meg and I have been fighting a lot. It starts from something daft, like forgetting to take the trash out and the cat getting into it, and it quickly escalates into her family pressuring her about me, and… what you and Carol have is… Easy. And you know I don’t mean it’s been an easy journey towards what you are now, but you both found exactly what you needed in each other. Before– I didn’t know this until she met you– She was happy, but she was also… Distant. Not only from me, but everyone. I suppose she’s always been like that, but now she’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And what it is, is envy. I’ve been looking, and I still haven’t found it.” Here Abby trails off, smoking morosely, and Therese is quiet, for there is nothing to say in this moment. Nothing that could redeem it or validate it further. As Carol liked to say, “That’s that.” So Therese does the only thing she can; she slips her hand in Abby’s and squeezes lightly. They stand there for a while, Therese sipping her water, wishing for something stronger, and Abby, who has now finished the cigarette, lighting herself another. “When will you have the baby?” “As Carol said, it’s still early days, but we’re projected around November.” “Oh, you might have a Thanksgiving baby, then. That’s lovely.”

 

There’s another silence, this time more companionable than before, and Abby throws down the glowing ends of the cigarette, muttering, “I’m an idiot”, before turning to Therese, “Let’s start again, shall we? Congratulations, I’m so very happy for you, and while I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother, I bet I’ll be an even more wonderful godmother, I’ve already had plenty of practice with Rindy”, before enveloping Therese in a hug. Therese giggles, holding onto Abby tightly, and Carol, who has all this time been smoking furiously and eavesdropping as best she can from the table, hears Therese laughing and feels the weight in her chest dissipate.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to write, seeing as it was impossible trying to nail Abby's voice. I also feel I've completely gone off the track of Highsmith's tone, making everything more frustrating. Perhaps I'll get that back in the next chapter. I am a strong believer that Abby is not solely the champion of Therese and Carol's friendship, she is a complex person that we don't get to see enough of in the film, so I'm writing this the way I think Abby might have responded, which isn't with complete one-dimensional happiness and no consideration for the past relationship she and Carol shared. Hopefully this works; Again, I appreciate so much every review left, and would love to hear anyone's thoughts! Thanks for reading! And if Tumblr's your thing, you can find me there at cauterizeandbruise tumblr com :)


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